Fool
by The Potions Mistress
Summary: My fic about Pippin's little sis, Frodo, female hobbits and hobbit society. This is not a cheesy romance, I swear. Please R&R. Thanks! ~Chapter 3 UP!!~
1. Life of the Party

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings, nor do I own Frodo. Sadly, they belong to JRR Tolkein. I will try not to cry too hard over this. I, however, do own Camilla Took, however odd she is.  
  
FYI: I have not read the entire trilogy yet. I have only seen the movie twice and am in the 7th chapter of FOTR. So please, keep that in mind as you read this. I'm not exactly sure which hobbits are directly related to which, so if this seems like an incestuous infatuation I did not intend for it to be that way. If something seems like it just totally wouldn't work, don't flame me, just drop me a line (via reviewing) and I'll change it around. Thanks so much for reading.  
  
  
  
"Because of you,  
  
I forgot the smart ways to rhyme.  
  
Because of you,  
  
I'm running out of reasons to cry.  
  
When the friends are gone,  
  
When the party's over,  
  
We will still belong,  
  
To each other.  
  
Underneath your clothes,  
  
There's an endless story.  
  
There's the man I chose,  
  
There's my territory,  
  
And all the things I deserve,  
  
For being such a good girl, honey. "  
  
-Shakira, "Underneath Your Clothes" (love this song)  
  
1 FOOL  
  
Ch 1- Life of the Party  
  
The twilight set over the Shire like a blanket, and would have been intolerable if not for a slight breeze in the air. The fireflies were performing their nightly ritual in the tall grass, and the crickets singing somewhere far below. Stars, pinpoints of light, dotted the sky like tiny holes in a velvet sheet. The way the clouds lit up when they crossed the moon was the finishing touch to a perfect evening: the night of a party.  
  
Camilla Took stood under the huge pavilion, staring at the erratic flight and blinking lights of the fireflies. Normally she would be out trying to catch them as the other young hobbits were, but tonight was different. Tonight she had to keep her white blouse clean and the green frock over it unwrinkled. She had to manage to keep her mop of curly blonde hair untangled, however impossible that was going to be with the wind and all. She had to walk tall and dignified, like a lady-hobbit, not a child. After all, she was not a child, or was she? At 29 she was not sure. She glared sadly at the children laughing and jumping among the reeds, then forced herself to turn away. She would keep her promise to herself.  
  
It was quite clear that the whole Shire was on hand for Blibo Baggins's 111th birthday. There were hundreds of hobbits that she had never seen before. Camilla wondered if Bilbo knew all them or if they had just showed up because if was the most anticipated party in 50 years. She was in the food tent, standing in a corner next to a giant barrel of ale. From there she could everything going on in the tent without being seen herself. The guests talked loudly to each other and consuming everything in sight. Camilla felt very small in her corner as she hugged herself and stared at the dirt.  
  
Her friend, Hannah Proudfoot, had been unable to come because she had been stricken with a very bad cold and could scarcely leave her bed. Without her partner in crime, Camilla was quite alone. She had been sure to distance herself from her parents at the first possible moment because spending the evening alone was much better than spending it with her fussy mother. Her brother Pippin had taken off to somewhere unknown and was probably getting into mischief if she knew him well enough. Yes, she thought, he's probably off with Merry and …  
  
A nauseous wave swept through her body as she thought of the other hobbit and her mission for the evening. She promised herself (and Hannah for that matter) that she'd do it, but without her there for moral support how on earth was she supposed to get through it?  
  
In her lifetime, Camilla Took had only had a few conversations with Frodo Baggins; most consisted of things like, "Nice weather we're having today". Now, the thought of declaring her love for him was enough to make her want to hurl. Look Camilla, she told herself, you hardly ever see Frodo and you need to do this. Just tell him how you feel and then you can get on with your life. After he turns you down, she added ruefully. There was, however, a little voice deep inside her, the hopeless romantic in her, that said perhaps he would return her love and they'd live happily ever after. She laughed bitterly at the ridiculous idea and turned around to find herself standing over the open barrel of ale.  
  
It happened to be still at the moment and Camilla could see her murky reflection. A round face with a mass of curly locks and stick out ears stared back at her. She nervously pushed her ears to her scalp, hoping they would stay closer to her head. She hated her ears with a passion. In fact, she hated her face altogether: her nose was too big, her eyes too small, and her lips too thin. Her father always told her that she was beautiful but that didn't count for anything. Fathers were supposed to say things like that to their daughters. Camilla noticed that one of the roses in her hair was falling out and she shoved it back into place. She loved roses and thought that they made her mousy hair a bit more exciting. My head smells like a perfume shop though, she thought and sighed. Her image suddenly rippled as someone dipped his mug into the barrel. She looked up and rolled her eyes at its owner.  
  
"Don't give me attitude, Camilla," sneered Pippin. "At least I'm having fun."  
  
"Who says I'm not having fun?" Camilla retorted. She couldn't stand it when her brother could read her mind.  
  
"Well let's see," he said, "you're standing here staring into a barrel of ale. Sounds like loads of fun to me." He sipped his ale. "I'd love to join you, but Merry and I are… well… busy."  
  
"And what would you be busy doing?" Camilla asked?  
  
"Ah," he continued, "I cannot say. Sworn to secrecy." He grinned. "And if you try to follow me, I'll pour this on your head." He jollily waved his glass in the air.  
  
"Glad you're so understanding," she scowled.  
  
"Oh, please, Camilla, I'm not buying the sob story. Honestly, does your life fall apart when Hannah isn't here? Go find Sam or Frodo or someone…"  
  
"Well where are they?" She asked earnestly. Her brother was finally becoming useful.  
  
"Not sure," he replied, "last time I saw them was in the dancing field. Frodo was hanging out with Bilbo and trying to get Sam to ask Rosie to dance." He ran a hand through his wavy hair. "Go check there, or at least do something instead of standing there looking miserable."  
  
Camilla offered a weak smile as Pippin bounded off into the darkness. Perhaps he wasn't such a bad older brother after all. Hands shaking, she headed in the direction of the music. It took her down a lantern-lit path through the trees, the wind whistling through the leaves. Numerous hobbits dotted the path, all of who gave Camilla a hearty "hello", even though she didn't know any of them. Hobbits get extremely friendly when they're drunk. The trees gave way to a clearing circled with lanterns and hobbits twirling in the center. Off to the left sat a fiddler and a flutist playing a sprightly jig. She took another step forward, cautiously looking to see if she knew any of these hobbits. Her eyes rested on an older one. "Bilbo Baggins," she muttered.  
  
The guest of honor sat at a table talking to another hobbit and Gandalf the Grey,  
  
neither of who looked too far off of eleventy-one either. His curly hair was gray and it flew out madly in all directions. They always said that Bilbo was crazy. Camilla was not in the mood to contemplate Bilbo's mental stability, however, and briefly flirted with the idea of marching straight up to him and questioning the whereabouts of his cousin. She had never met Bilbo Baggins, and it would most certainly seem odd for her to go up to him and ask such a frank question.  
  
She sighed. There were a million hobbits milling about and none of them the one she was looking for. She was about to go when a husky hobbit sitting alone at a table caught her attention: Sam Gamgee. If anyone knew where Frodo was it would be he.  
  
She pushed her way through the crowd to Sam's table. He was pouring ale down his throat like there was no tomorrow. His mug hit the table with a bang as Camilla sat down across from him. "Hi Sam," she said.  
  
"Oh, hello there Miss Camilla," he replied woefully.  
  
"Why so upset?"  
  
"Oh the usual. Mr. Frodo is trying to get me to dance with Miss Rosie and I'm just don't want to. I don't have to dance with her, I'll be alright here, but oh no, Mr. Frodo is hell bent on…"  
  
"Don't you like Rosie?" I cut in.  
  
"Well yeah I do," he said, "but you know I'm too scared to ask, and she'll say no anyway…" He sighed, "I need some more ale."  
  
Camilla clutched his arm, "No you don't. Sit down." He reluctantly obeyed, staring back at Camilla with the most pitiful expression she'd seen since… well… since she had looked into the ale barrel. "If you like Rosie than why don't you just go up to her and tell her so? Then you'll know."  
  
"Funny that should come from you," He replied sharply.  
  
"What is that supposed to mean?"  
  
"Well considering you like Mr. Frodo…"  
  
Camilla gasped and almost fell out of her chair. "Sam, I haven't told anyone that I like Frodo except for Hannah. If that damn Proudfoot told anyone…"  
  
"As far as I know, she didn't. And your secret's safe with me." Sam grinned warmly.  
  
"Who told you then?"  
  
"I figured it out myself Miss Camilla. You see, I can see things that people don't usually notice, like how you're a very social outgoing hobbit when you're with your friends or Mr. Pippin, but whenever Mr. Frodo arrives on the scene you suddenly act like you are the most sophisticated hobbit in the Shire."  
  
"Do I really?" She asked quietly.  
  
"Well there is a notable change in your personality." He replied, "You don't act snotty or anything, you just try to act more mature."  
  
Camilla did not know that she was doing this whenever she spoke to Frodo, but the more and more she thought about, she realized that Sam was quite right. "Do you suggest that I be myself a little more?"  
  
"Oh yes," said Sam, "I think Mr. Frodo would rather enjoy the real you. He likes fun-loving hobbits."  
  
"And I suggest that you ask Rosie to dance." Camilla declared.  
  
Sam blushed furiously, "Well now you see Miss Rosie and I is a lot different than Mr. Frodo and you…"  
  
"It's no different Sam." Camilla answered, "You're a very nice hobbit and I'm sure Rosie would love to be your girlfriend." She stood, leaned across the table and kissed Sam on the forehead. "Now where is Frodo?"  
  
Sam turned an even deeper shade of red. "The last I saw, he was talking to Miss Rosie. Just stay in the area. You're bound to find him."  
  
"Thanks Sam." She turned her back to his table.  
  
"Good luck," he called after her.  
  
"You too," she replied. If Frodo was in the area, he was sure doing a good job of hiding himself. She reasoned that he must be on the other side of the dance floor, but she didn't want to cut through the waltzing couples to get there. She was so busy debating the best way to arrive at the other side that she almost missed the fact that she didn't need to.  
  
A hobbit emerged from the bushes at her right. He was laughing to himself and his clothes were slightly dirty. His brown hair flew in all directions as he raced past Camilla, then suddenly skidded to a stop a few yards in front of her. He turned around and the light caught in his eyes, brilliant blue ones and Camilla felt faint.  
  
Frodo Baggins was looking her straight in the face.  
  
Immediately, her palms were covered in sweat and her heart thumped a thousand times a minute. There was no one else near her, which meant that he was heading for Camilla. So this is when I die, she thought, which was instantly rebuked with a cry of, oh Camilla you foolish Took, you're not going to die.  
  
If hobbits had gods, Frodo surely would have been one of them. The light twinkled in his eyes and his curly hair always seemed to look perfect. He was lean, rather tall for a hobbit, and a smile constantly played at his lips, those thin lips that she longed to touch. Stop that, Camilla, she scolded herself, you mustn't think dirty thoughts about Frodo. But it was too late for that, her mind was already wandering to R rated things, and by the time she gained control of her brain he was already upon her.  
  
"Hi Camilla you look lovely tonight." He grinned double rows of perfect gleaming teeth. Camilla felt weak somewhere in the knee area.  
  
"Oh," she said breathlessly, "thank you. You look nice yourself."  
  
"Are you kidding me? I've been running around in the bushes. My clothes are a mess and Bilbo'll give me hell for it." He chuckled and it sounded like bells.  
  
This was the time to do. This was the time to tell him. She needed to. She just had to. She had to get it out of her system once and for all. At this point, a horrible aching pain had arisen in her chest and combined with her throbbing heart she was finding it hard to breathe. Maybe you just shouldn't do it, she thought, just let this blow over and forget about it. Besides, you know what he'll say anyway. Then a new thought struck her: oh what the hell. Carpe Diem, baby.  
  
She inhaled sharply. "Frodo, I really would like to tell you that…"  
  
Frodo grabbed her arm and gasped. The waltz in the background had been replaced by a fast jig. "This is my favorite song!" His eyes grew two times their size. "Let's dance."  
  
"Uh wait a minute, I…"  
  
But Camilla's plea fell on deaf ears as she was whisked to the dance floor. In a second his arms were around her and they whirled in circles. Camilla's head swam and she felt faint. She was not middle earth's best dancer, and the love of her life was about to find that out the hard way. To Camilla's horror, many of the hobbits dancing around her stopped to cheer on their guest of honor. She knew she shouldn't have had that 3rd mug of ale.  
  
Frodo noticed her floundering and offered the best tips he could. "You have to drive your feet into the ground," he called, "That's how you do a jig." He spun her out on one hand, then reeled her in like a bass from the Brandywine. Her body hit his with a thud. "Try it." He cried.  
  
Try she did, and surprisingly she didn't do too badly. Their feet moved in time and the crowd of hobbits cheered at their synchronization. He linked his arm with hers and ran in a circle. Then he took her by both hands and spun her around. The world was a blur of color and lights, nothing focused except for the wide smiling handsome face before her, and the hair whipping behind his head. A blonde curl of her own fell across her eye and in vain she shook her head to remove it. She wanted to remember this sight her whole life.  
  
Suddenly Frodo stopped twirling her. The song was over and the hobbits were cheering uncontrollably. The world still shaking like an earthquake, she somehow managed to curtsey while Frodo bowed. He slowly led her off the dance floor as she massaged her aching head with her palm. "You did well," he said, "You're not too bad of a partner."  
  
"Oh that's good." The words sounded stupid to Camilla but she still couldn't see straight. Frodo's face was bobbing back and forth in front of her. She plopped down on the bench of one of the tables and Frodo let go of her hand.  
  
"Yes," He replied, "Well, it was nice dancing with you. I'll see you around when I come to visit Pippin."  
  
"But…" It was too late. Frodo was off and running to someplace else. Where he got the energy she had no clue. She blinked and inhaled deeply. Sweet oxygen filled her lungs and she dipped her head back against the table. She had a terrible headache and she closed her eyes. She hadn't accomplished her mission, but she felt as though she had done enough for the night. After all, she thought wearily, tomorrow is another day.  
  
And with that she fell promptly asleep against the wood.  
  
  
  
Do you like? Please review and I'll continue the story. Thanks so much! 


	2. 2nd Breakfast

Disclaimer: Same as before  
  
Thanks to those who are reading and reviewing. This won't be a cheesy love story I swear. :o)  
  
"Strong inside but you don't know it,  
  
Good little girls they never show it.  
  
When you open up your mouth to speak,  
  
Could you be a little weak?"  
  
-Madonna, "What it feels like for a girl".  
  
Ch-2 2nd Breakfast  
  
"Camilla."  
  
Her eyes creaked open but she closed them immediately. A beam of sunlight streamed through her window onto her face. She rolled onto her side to avoid it and shoved her face into a pillow.  
  
"Camilla! Get up you lazy Took!"  
  
Groaning, Camilla pushed herself up. She had somehow gotten back to her house and into her pajamas, assumedly by her mother's accord or her own half asleep one. She stared at the clock; 10:30. She had slept quite late. Reluctantly, she dragged herself from her bed to the window and pushed it open. Golden light spilled into her room as the fresh morning air invaded her nose. Her window overlooked the Shire in all of its green majesty. Rolling emerald waves stretched before her to the horizon. Farmers worked in the distance, black figures moving before the morning sun.  
  
She sighed and her thoughts traveled to the previous evening. She closed her eyes and in her mind she was still whirling around in the field, the wildest ride of her life. If her heart hadn't been beating so fast and the memory so etched in her mind, she would not have believed it real.  
  
Instantly, she grabbed a lock of her hair and sniffed it. She smelled roses and nothing more, no inkling of the fresh smell of his hands in her hair. She had said hardly more than a few sentences and she'd never felt closer to him in her life. It was a simple matter of her just happening to be in the right place at the right time. This she knew. He would not have gone looking for her to dance with him. Still, she could not help but wonder…  
  
"Camilla, IF YOU DON'T GET IN HERE THIS INSTANT…"  
  
"Coming mother." Wondering would have to wait. She tore to her dresser and pulled out a white blouse and blue knee pants. Jumping out of her pajamas and into her pants, she raced down the hall while still buttoning her blouse. As she rounded the corner to the kitchen, the scent of bacon greeted her.  
  
"Camilla do you realize what time it is?" Her mother rushed around the kitchen throwing things on a plate. "If you had slept any later you would have missed 2nd breakfast." The kitchen was a bright homey place with a little black stove in the corner and pots hanging from the ceiling. A dozen shelves lined the walls filled with everything from sage and basil to vanilla extract and powdered sugar. Camilla plopped herself down at the small round table.  
  
"Your father's off already. And God knows where Pippin's gotten to." Her mother was muttering more to herself than to Camilla. She pushed the flyaway strands of her hair back to her bun and wiped her hand on her dress. Jogging across the room, she dropped a heaping plate of breakfast in front of Camilla.  
  
"There," she stated. "Eat." And she ran off to clean the dishes.  
  
The plate was piled six inches high with scrambled eggs, 5 strips of bacon and 3 biscuits with jam. Her stomach lurched just looking at it, being that it was still full from last night's ale and festivities. "I'm not hungry mama."  
  
Her mother didn't even look up from the sink. "Of course you are. Eat up now."  
  
"No, mother, really. I'm not hungry," Camilla replied. She needed to get out of the house and to Hannah's before mom convieniently found some household chore for her to do.  
  
"Camilla, you missed first breakfast and I will not let you leave this hole without eating something," she cried, her arms crossed in exasperation. "You are a growing hobbit. Growing hobbits should really eat 3 breakfasts if you ask me…"  
  
"Oh mother." Camilla sighed. Sometimes her mother could be such a pain. Make that most times.  
  
"…and if you skip out now, I know you won't be back for elevensies, which means you'll end up mooching off the Proudfoots again and I'll be darned if that Laurel Proundfoot holds it over my head again." Her mother was pacing the kitchen.  
  
"Calm down, mama, I'll eat," Camilla answered. Reluctantly, she picked up a biscuit and took a bite.  
  
"Good, I'll watch you." Her mother pulled out the chair next to Camilla and sat down. Camilla stared at her mother's eyes through her oval glasses and saw that the glass enlarged them two-fold.  
  
"I'd prefer if you didn't." Camilla swallowed and was surprisingly able to keep the biscuit down.  
  
"Too bad," she replied. "I am. You're still full from last night, aren't you? Speaking of last night, what happened to you? Did you run a marathon or something? Dad had to carry you home."  
  
"I was just tired," Camilla said. Her mother was on a need-to-know basis concerning Camilla's personal life.  
  
Her mother glared at her over her glasses. "Sure," she deadpanned. "It's alright Camilla, you don't have to tell me. I'm only your mother." She stood. "I'm off to do laundry. I could use your help." Without waiting for a reply, she swept from the room.  
  
Camilla chose this as her moment of escape. Popping the last bit of biscuit into her mouth, she crept to the door and pushed it slightly. It creaked and Camilla flinched.  
  
"Camilla?" A shrill voice sounded from the living room. "Where are you going?"  
  
"Out." She replied curtly and jumped over the threashold.  
  
"You have to baby-sit for Mrs. Brownlock tonight."  
  
"I know." She was halfway down the front lane and halfway to freedom.  
  
"Camilla, did you brush your hair? Get back in here!"  
  
Camilla broke into a run as she rounded the fence. Brushing her curly hair took at least a half-an-hour and it usually ended with Camilla in tears and most of her hair on the floor. To Camilla, her hair looked the same whether she ran a comb through it or not. She slowed her pace and breathed heavily. It was only about 5 minutes to Hannah's hole.  
  
The Shire was up and buzzing, most likely about the party: who was there, who wasn't there, and who made a fool of himself after he had too much ale. The hobbits were a gossipy bunch, and it was not much to Camilla's liking. What others did was their business and not open for all of middle-earth to discuss and condemn in hushed whispers. She had seen many a hobbit ruined by a rumormonger.  
  
She reached the Proudfoots's gate and, like she always had done, jumped on the low wall of wood that surrounded it. She flailed her arms to keep her balance and stared at her toes.  
  
"Well, hello there Camilla."  
  
She looked up at the friendly voice and was delighted to find, standing in the road with her two young children, Azaelia Brownlock. "Hi there." She leapt off the wall and trotted to her.  
  
"Hi Miss Camilla," said Lily Brownlock, the younger one. "Are you gonna be my baby-sitter tonight?" She stared up at Camilla with huge eyes.  
  
"Yes, I am." She replied and looked at the older child. "How are you Moro?"  
  
"Ok, I guess." He answered, shifting his gaze to the tree in the Proudfoots's yard.  
  
"So how was the party?" Asked Azaelia. Her black hair was tied back in a loose ponytail at her neck and her lavender eyes danced with excitement.  
  
"You didn't go?" Camilla replied in shock. "I thought everyone was there?"  
  
"Oh I went," Azaelia said, "I just didn't see you there. I'm not surprised seeing as how there were so many hobbits there."  
  
"Oh I know," Camilla stated, "It was getting ridiculous."  
  
"Did you have fun though?" Azaelia smiled warmly.  
  
"Oh I suppose so." Camilla tried to read Azaelia's expression to see if she knew what happened to her at the party but her face showed nothing.  
  
"That's good. I like your pants there. Did you steal them from Pippin?"  
  
Camilla looked down at her own trousers and then over at Azaelia's, which were burgundy. "I like yours as well. And I did steal them from my brother. He's getting fat."  
  
"As hobbits tend to around his age. Now tell me Miss Camilla Took," she said with a faux smirk, "What is a mature young hobbit like you doing in pants, instead of a skirt like she should be?"  
  
"I suppose for the same reason you're wearing yours," Camilla replied. "They're more comfortable than a skirt. You can get more done in them."  
  
Azaelia grinned. "That's exactly what I say."  
  
"You shouldn't chastise me about mature hobbits. Who's the one who's 37 here."  
  
The two hobbits both cracked up at this and Azaelia shook her head. "You're still young enough for the general public to let it go, though." Azaelia's gaze drifted to the dirt road. "Anyway," she said, picking her head up, "I'm sure Miss Proudfoot is expecting you." She gestured towards the house.  
  
"Yes I'd better go. See you tonight. Bye guys." Camilla jogged up the Proudfoot's lane.  
  
"Bye Miss Camilla," Lily called after her.  
  
Camilla came to a halt at Hannah's door and gave it three swift knocks. After a moment, it swung upon and a little hobbit stuck his head out.  
  
"Hi Tobias," said Camilla leaning down to reach his eye level. "Can I come in to talk to Hannah?"  
  
"Hannah's got a cold," said Tobias, and would have shut the door had Camilla not shoved her foot in it.  
  
"I don't mind. I won't get sick."  
  
"Mama said she's not to have any visitors," he admonished.  
  
"Well," said Camilla, "than it'll just be our little secret, right Tobias?" She pushed the door in and the little one jumped back.  
  
"If mama catches you, she'll beat you hairless!" He called after Camilla as she raced up the stairs to Hannah's room. The door was closed and she knocked softly.  
  
"Come on in." Replied a stuffy voice. Camilla turned the knob and stepped inside.  
  
Hannah was lying in her bed in her pajamas with her hair done in pigtail braids down her chest. Her nightstand was littered with potions and herbs and a rag with which to wipe her nose. "I hope Tobias didn't give you too much trouble." She sniffed and sat up in bed.  
  
"Nah, he's rather easy to overcome." Camilla bounded towards Hannah and leapt on her bed. "Are you feeling better?"  
  
"A little," Hannah answered. Her nose was red as a cherry. "I saw you talking to Miss Azaelia Brownlock out there." She gestured towards her window.  
  
"Oh. Yeah. I'm babysitting for Lily and Moro tonight," Camilla replied.  
  
"God, she's so pretty." Hannah sighed. "I'm surprised no well-to-do hobbit has picked her up yet."  
  
"They're probably turned off by the fact that she has kids."  
  
"And that husband of hers. If you were a guy, would you want to try to fill the breeches of Taramar Brownlock?"  
  
"I suppose not."  
  
The two lapsed into silence. "But that's not important." Proclaimed Hannah, "What IS important is: does my best friend now have a significant other?"  
  
"Well," Camilla sighed, "no."  
  
Hannah gasped. "Oh my gosh Camilla I'm so sorry. I wish I had been there to help you cope with the rejection."  
  
"Actually, I didn't get a chance to ask him," said Camilla.  
  
"Oh you chicken!" Hannah cried. "I can't believe you didn't ask him."  
  
"No I really didn't get a chance to." Camilla tried to explain, "You see I was about to say it when some jig he really liked came on and he pulled me out onto the dance floor with him."  
  
Hannah put her hand over her mouth and leaned in closer. "He tried to dance with you?" She said slowly. "And did you maim him with your feet of fury?"  
  
"Thanks Hannah," Camilla deadpanned. "Actually, I did quite well, for me. Must have been a combination of ale and adrenaline. So afterwards, I was so tired I could hardly move and he ran away before I had a chance to say much else to him."  
  
"That sucks." Hannah leaned back against her headboard. "But he seems interested."  
  
"Not really, I was just kind of in the right place at the right time."  
  
"Have you ever considered telling Pippin?" She asked, "He's practically best friends with the guy."  
  
"Me telling Pippin anything of the sort is like slashing my own throat." Said Camilla.  
  
"I don't think he's so bad." Camilla stared at her friend and noticed that her nose had gone a little redder.  
  
"Oh Hannah, please don't tell me."  
  
"Ok," She replied and grinned, "I won't."  
  
Camilla buried her head in her hands. "You CAN'T like my brother. He's so disgusting, Han. He eats with his hands, makes barking noises at passing hobbits in the street and doesn't curl his foot hair."  
  
"Soo," she replied, "he's non-conformist. I like that in a hobbit."  
  
"He's an IDIOT, Hannah. Trust me I live with him."  
  
"Just because you're his sister…"  
  
"HANNAH!"  
  
Both girls gasped and Camilla fell off the bed. "Mom's coming," Hannah hissed. "Quick, hide!"  
  
"It's time for you medicine, Hannah." The voice was right down the hall.  
  
Camilla stood and searched for a hiding place. Her eyes rested on the window. "I'm outta here Hannah. See me when you're allowed out ok?" She ran to the window and pushed it open. Stepping out, she slammed it behind her, and steadied her balance on the roof. The tiles were slippery and the roof was slanted. Cautiously, she made her way to the tree in the Proudfoots's yard and gripped the branches tightly. Before she knew what was happening, her footing gave way and she was falling down in a blur of green, branches whipping her face.  
  
She landed on all fours and warily stood up. She looked down at her filthy blouse and could only imagine what her mother would say when she reached her hole. 


	3. The Hill

Disclaimer: Same as before.  
  
Thank you Egon Starcollector for reading this! I love your story "Beautiful"  
  
Ch3- The Hill.  
  
"So spare your heart, save your soul,  
  
don't drag your love across the coals,  
  
find your feet and your fortune can be told,  
  
release, relax, let go,  
  
and hey, now let's recover your soul."  
  
Elton John, "Recover Your Soul"  
  
The door to her hole gave its usual creak as Camilla pushed it open. Slowly, she crept through the kitchen to the hallway. The house was as silent and dark as a tomb. Nothing stirred and she liked it that way. She was about 5 yards from her room when a voice made her jump.  
  
"Well, Camilla, you think you're pretty sly, don't you?"  
  
She sighed and turned to face her mother. "No, I just didn't want to disturb anyone. Why is it so dark in here?"  
  
Mrs. Took had her hands on her hips as she walked to her daughter. "It keeps the house cooler," she declared. "Now where did you…" She stopped abruptly and squinted at her daughter's chest. "Is that…?"  
  
Before Camilla could respond, she was dragged to the window and held stiffly by her shoulders. "It IS," cried her mother as she shook her slightly. "Dirt. All over your clean white blouse! How did this happen?"  
  
"Well…" The tree incident would only make her mother angrier. "Ida know. I was just playing and…"  
  
She sighed loudly. "When are you going to stop behaving like a child and act like a lady?"  
  
Camilla's cheeks felt hot in the yellow sunlight. "When being a lady means I can still have fun."  
  
"Who ever said that ladies couldn't have fun?" She replied curtly, "Ladies do have fun, it just doesn't involve running around the Shire like a ragamuffin."  
  
"I don't look like a ragamuffin," Camilla hissed and slunk out of the light.  
  
"That is negligible," Mrs. Took said. "Now hurry up and get out of that so I can wash it before it's ruined."  
  
Camilla shuffled the rest of the way to her room. Angrily slamming her door open, she gasped as she beheld someone leaning over her dresser. "Pippin!" She screamed, "Get out of my room!"  
  
Pippin stood bolt upright and sneered at her. "Who told you that you could have my pants?"  
  
"I did," Camilla retorted. "They don't fit you anymore. Now get out!"  
  
"Yes they do fit me," he cried. "I'll prove it." He clutched a stack of pants to his chest and stormed out of the room.  
  
Camilla collapsed on her bed and stared at the celing. Of all the clans in the Shire, why had she been born a Took? She hated her mother for her closed mind and her brother for his ignorance. Her father she didn't see often enough to hate. Why couldn't she have been born a Brandybuck, or a Brownlock, or a Proudfoot.  
  
Or a Baggins.  
  
She smiled weakly and sighed. She'd never be a Baggins.  
  
She trudged to her dresser and pulled out a new blouse and a burgundy frock. She figured that she might as well get ready for her babysitting adventure now. Tossing her dirty clothes on the floor, she buttoned up her clean shirt and pulled the dress over her head. It already felt tight and itchy.  
  
Just then her door flew open and Pippin strutted it, standing up very tall. He appeared to be holding his breath. Camilla looked at his bulging waistline and giggled.  
  
"What?" He gasped. "They fit. They fit rather nicely."  
  
Pippin looked like a demonstration of what might happen if you try to stick a cow in a children's sized frock. The button his fly looked dangerously close to flying off and possibly maiming someone. "Pippin," Camilla sighed, "stop being so vain and give it up. You can hardly breathe."  
  
Pippin reached down and (with much effort) unbuttoned his fly. He heaved a huge sigh of relief as his stomach returned to its normal position. "I guess you're right sis." He lamented, "Here ya go." Right in front of her, he stripped off the pants and threw them at her.  
  
"Oh Pippin please!" She cried. "And be careful you'll rip them."  
  
"For heaven's sake, Camilla, I'm your brother. It's not like you've never seen me in britches."  
  
"Do me a favor Pip and take that shirt to mum for me please." She pointed to her blouse on the floor.  
  
He scooped it up off the floor. "Why can't you?" he questioned.  
  
"I'm leaving now." She walked to the window and pushed it open.  
  
"Isn't she on the way out?"  
  
"Not the way I'm going." Camilla replied and heaved herself up onto the sill. "I don't wish to see her again until tomorrow."  
  
Pippin chuckled to himself. "All right then," he called. "Have a fun time."  
  
She landed on the ground outside her house and walked briskly away from it. She had over two hours until Azaelia expected her. What she was going to do until then she had no idea. Her stomach growled and she remembered that she had not eaten since breakfast. She'd just have to wait until she got to Azaelia's and eat there, something her mother would frown upon. Heaven forbid her mother feel she owed something to Azaelia.  
  
An idea stuck her and Camilla headed towards the hill. It was a huge place full of trees and tall grass that she liked to go to when she wanted to think things through. The other reason she liked going there was because Frodo did as well. She couldn't count how many times she had just lain still in the reeds as she watched him do whatever he felt like doing that day. Sometimes he would just lie there as well, daydreaming. Sometimes he would write. One time Camilla was treated to a song and dance number, because he thought no one was looking. Camilla had to bury her mouth in her dress to keep from laughing and blowing her cover.  
  
She trotted up the hill's grassy side, the blades itching her feet. Picking up her skirt so not to trip, she made her way to the tall trees at the top. It was after midday, and the sun beat down on her back, making beads of sweat drip down her neck. Under the trees it was at least 5 degrees cooler. She walked on, then came to a sudden halt as she noticed Frodo sitting under a tree. Immediately, she dropped to the ground and hid behind a clump of tall reeds.  
  
Frodo leaned against the trunk of the tree, his foot resting on his knee with a book in his lap. He was absentmindedly chewing on the end of a pipe as he puffed little white clouds into the air. The wind rustled the trees as well as the little whisps of his hair. The trees' leaves cast odd circular shadows on Frodo's face.  
  
Camilla breathed slowly. He was even more beautiful than the last time she saw him. The sunlight bounced off of his head and made his brown hair shine. She wondered how it would feel to be embraced just once by him. To have his lips tenderly grace hers. To run her fingers through those curly brown locks…  
  
Oh what was she thinking? Here she was, practically a grown hobbit, lying on the ground, staring at someone like a stalker, when she could just go over there and talk to him. For now she preferred to sit back and enjoy the eye candy. The wind, however, had other ideas.  
  
One of the reeds swept across her face, tickling her nose. She tried to swat it away, but it was too late. Her head reeled back and her nose scrunched up.  
  
AH-CHOO!!  
  
Her sneeze reverberated over the land and she saw Frodo jump. "Who's there?" He cried and pulled the pipe from his mouth. Camilla had no choice but to stand up and reveal herself. Frodo's look of concern washed away as he saw her. "Oh, well hello there Camilla. Why were you on the ground?"  
  
"I… um… fell," Camilla said quickly.  
  
"Oh," he replied and looked at her strangely, "In either case I'm glad you're here. Why don't you come over?" He closed his book and patted to the grass next to him.  
  
Camilla felt that familiar crushing pain in her chest as she slowly made her way to Frodo. Carefully she dropped onto the grass next to him. He scooted his back over so Camilla could lean against the tree as well. Their shoulders were touching.  
  
"Do you come here often?" Frodo asked.  
  
"Sometimes," Camilla replied. "When I need to think about things or just relax."  
  
"Same here." He said, "I find it a very calm and soothing place." Camilla focused everywhere but his eyes. Those eyes would be the end of her. "So, what have you to think about today?"  
  
"Oh." Camilla turned the color of her dress. "Just… things…"  
  
"Things like…?" Frodo continued.  
  
"Nothing important really." Besides him.  
  
"Things like…," he paused for drama, "boys?"  
  
Camilla nearly jumped out of her skin. "No." she said curtly as she tried to remain calm, "Why do you say that?"  
  
"Ah ha!" He cried, "It is boys. Tell me who it is."  
  
Camilla could not believe what was happening. The two of them had gone from talking about weather to discussing Camilla's love life in one dance. Something was up. "Why do you want to know?"  
  
"I'm just curious." He said, "Can't a hobbit be curious about things like that?"  
  
"I suppose he can, but what if I don't want to tell him? And why do you care?"  
  
"Because, Camilla, we're like family." He smiled warmly at her. "On second thought I think we are family somewhere along the line. Practically all hobbits are somehow related to each other. I mean, Pippin and I…"  
  
He stopped and Camilla's brain clicked. "I get it now. This isn't Frodo asking. This is Pippin!"  
  
Frodo laughed so hard that the trees rang with it. "All right." He said cheerfully, "you've got me. I am asking for your brother because he suspects that you like someone and for some reason he figured you'd tell me who."  
  
Camilla crossed her arms. "That was quite mean." She scowled. She could never hate him but maybe it'd shake him up a bit.  
  
"I know it was." He replied, "I'm sorry. I figured that you weren't going to tell me anyway and even if you did I wouldn't have told Pippin. There are some things that an older brother shouldn't know about his sister."  
  
"I suppose you're right."  
  
They lapsed into silence and Frodo picked up his pipe again. He took a long drag and skillfully blew a ring in the air. Camilla giggled. "Bilbo taught me that one." He said proudly. After a few more rings, Frodo looked up at the sun. "Shouldn't you be heading off to the Brownlocks now?" He declared.  
  
Camilla sat up. "How do you know I'm babysitting for Moro and Lily tonight?"  
  
"Oh…" For once Frodo looked lost for words, "Uh… your brother told me that you would be there tonight. He wanted me to try and get you before you got there." He grinned. "And so I did."  
  
"Yes, so you did." Camilla smiled back. She didn't ever want to get up. "I suppose you're right though." She stood. "If you want to get rid of me so badly."  
  
"Oh come on now, it's not that. I just don't want you to keep Azaelia waiting. You know how hobbits can get."  
  
"Yes I do." She stared at him for a moment. His eyes were like oceans she wanted to dive into. She blinked and they ended their hypnosis. "I'll see you around then."  
  
"Sure." He picked up his book again. "Come and visit me anytime you'd like. I'm here most days at this time."  
  
"All right then," Camilla called over her shoulder. "Bye."  
  
"Bye."  
  
Camilla raced through the trees and down the hill her body gaining momentum as she went. She grinned like a fool the whole way down. 


End file.
